


St. Mark's Asylum ~1870

by kayeblaise



Series: SVT Immortals AU [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: although the references are mostly obtuse and it's not really the point of the piece, i'm incapable of linear storytelling, not necessary to read the other parts to read this, part of the immortals au so they're not human, please be cautious if you are affected by mental institutions., team as family style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-10-23 19:01:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10725285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayeblaise/pseuds/kayeblaise
Summary: Jun doesn't know what the boy he'd first seen at the asylum window was exactly, but he knows an immortal when he sees one.





	1. London, 15 days since first meeting

The boy gazed at the ceiling with stars in his eyes like he could see through the wooden roof into the night.  Jun leant against the wall.  He hugged the shadows, noting the threadbare clothes hanging on the other’s frame.

He was so unsubstantial with his arms forgetfully hugging his knees. 

Jun’s eyes kept falling on the other’s bare feet.  Something about it made him angrier than anything else.  They couldn’t even give him a pair of socks.

“Jun, is that you?”  Joshua couldn’t see him standing in the shadows but he turned his head in the right direction like he could sense him there.  Perhaps to himself, Joshua said, “Well, I hope it is.”  There was an unfinished end to the thought—the idea that sometimes Joshua heard things and there really was nothing there.

Deciding there was no reason to hide any longer, Jun stepped forward into view. 

Joshua’s bangs brushed over his eyes as he looked up.  The silent acknowledgement of the greeting drew Jun forward. 

He sat down so their shoulders touched and joined him in staring at the opposite wall.  After a moment, Joshua scrunched down, letting his head rest on Jun’s shoulder.

“How are you doing?” Jun asked plainly, still looking at the moonlight splashed on the far wall.

“It’s been cold,” Joshua mumbled back.

Jun reached up automatically and unwound the scarf from his own neck, careful not to jostle the other too much as he did so.  When he threaded the scarf carefully around Joshua, the other stilled but his eyes stayed closed.

“Thank you.”

Jun hummed in response.  Joshua didn’t try to tell him that he shouldn’t have.  The gratitude was a welcome contrast to the feigned politeness that underwrote every other interaction in the city.

“How did you get in?” Joshua asked the way you might ask someone what they ate for lunch.  Certainly not the way you’d ask someone how they broke into an asylum in the dead of night.

“I convinced the night nurse to let me up.”  Jun tread carefully around the word “convinced,” and the acrid taste it left in his mouth lingered.

“I’m sorry," Joshua said.

“What for?”

“I know you don’t like doing that.”

The cold air spilled into Jun’s hollowed out chest.  He looked down at Joshua resting on his shoulder, eyelashes brushing his cheek.  Joshua seemed entirely unaware of the impact of his words.

“How did you know that?” Jun asked.

“You pray sometimes.  I can hear you.”

An eerie stillness settled over the room.  There had been no reason for Joshua to assume he meant anything out of the ordinary when he said he had convinced the night nurse to let him up in the middle of the night.  It was well within reason to assume he’d asked politely.  He hadn't, though.

“What else do you hear?”

Joshua mumbled like he was half asleep, “Lots of things.”

Jun looked down at his hands.  He had to grip them together to stop them shaking.  It was true that he hated glamoring mortals like a sickness in his bones but Joshua shouldn’t have known that. He hadn’t mentioned it outright to anyone before, certainly not to the boy he’d first seen at the asylum window little more than two weeks ago.  It was proof that he heard things that were never spoken. He still had no idea what Joshua was.  The only thing he knew for sure was that he wasn’t crazy. Finally, he dared to ask, “Do you know what I am, then?”

Joshua’s eyes popped open, not with an expression of surprise, but like he had to be certain of Jun being there before he said, “I know what you're afraid you are.”

The answer dripped into Jun’s core.  It gathered long embedded shards and doubt as it went.  There were stars still in Joshua’s eyes, like he knew the layers of meaning his answer would hold—like the answer had come from something beyond and outside of him.   

“Does that scare you?” Jun asked in the end.  He didn’t really want an answer and Joshua didn’t offer one.  Jun ended up counting the bars on the windows.  He was still unsure of whether they seemed sinister or not. 

He was surprised when Joshua’s voice sounded a counter question: “What about me?” _Do I scare you._

Jun realized he couldn’t answer, the same way Joshua couldn’t answer him.   

“I know you don’t belong here,” he said eventually.

Joshua shifted, tucking his feet underneath himself.  “I have bad days,” he suddenly admitted with his eyes on the ground.

Jun knew that.

“There are days I lose time,” Josh continued, “where I do things and can’t remember.”

“That doesn’t mean you belong here.”

“It’s better this way—safer.  I can’t control what I don’t remember.”

He wondered if Joshua lost time because he was disturbed as they said or because they kept shocking him.  Jun saw once again the angry red mark that sat just behind Joshua’s ear.  He reached over to brush his hair out of the way to see the spot clearer.  Joshua cringed.  Jun pretended not to notice.

He wanted to say something, but before he could open his mouth, Joshua’s breath caught and he fell into a fit of coughing—almost wheezing like he couldn’t catch his breath.  Jun wound up rubbing a hand across his back and waiting for it to pass. 

Once it did, Joshua answered Jun’s questioning eyes, “A cold.  I just need to get some sleep.”

Dissatisfied with the response, Jun still knew a dismissal when he heard one.  He moved to stand, uncertain about what Joshua wanted—and unsure about what he meant by coming here.

“Wait.”  Joshua handed him back the scarf.  “Don’t want to explain how I got that.  They’ll think I’m a witch.”

“Maybe you are.”

Joshua smiled as if the idea was pleasing to him.

“I know a witch,” Jun continued in pursuit of that smile.

“I know a vampire,” Joshua joked back, “Why ever would they think I’m crazy?”

“We’re not the only ones, Josh.  There are more of us out there.”

“And one in here," he added.

“Not for long."  He meant it to sound positive but he caught something in Joshua’s face faltering before he could cover it up.  Jun was reminded once more that the ground he stood on was unstable.  He didn’t know what Joshua wanted and he certainly didn’t know him enough to make plans.

“I’ll be back,” Jun said, leaving it open ended.

Joshua nodded his response.  “Good night.”  

Jun didn’t know how it could be, thinking about the split-second expression that had crossed Joshua’s face.  Whether it had been fear, regret, or hopelessness, it was familiar in a way he was scared to admit. 

This had been one of the better days, but Jun almost regretted bringing the light in Joshua’s eyes into focus:  letting the stars dim until Joshua could see past the curtain that clouded him from his surroundings.  In those moments, more than the far away moments, Jun hesitated to say that he was helping.  He would have prayed for the grace to figure it all out but he was afraid now of what Joshua might hear.


	2. the first meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I am incapable of linear storytelling, here's a chronologically earlier moment from this timeline in which Jun pretends to be rich to gain access to an asylum because he's convinced that the person he saw at the window was an immortal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super vague implications warning but sail carefully, friends.

“Good morning, sir.  Can I help you?”  the woman at the desk was sizing him up and she didn’t seem to be making any attempt to hide it. 

“Yes,” he began, pacing over with an affected, casual stride, throwing half interested looks around the room.  “I received a letter from my great uncle the other day informing me that I had a cousin residing in London.  One that I was previously unaware of."  He had reached the counter now and purposefully began to fiddle with his cufflink. “I was taken aback to discover the location of my poor cousin, but I would be very interested in meeting him.”

Her eyes drifted to the cufflink and her expression quickly became more welcoming than before.  She smoothed her hands over the front of her dress.  “Of course, sir, what is your cousin’s name?”

He leant with his whole elbow on the counter now, “Sorry to say my old uncle only referred to him in the obtuse.  My cousin was a child the last time they met and his memory is not what it used to be.”

“We have a number of employees,” she informed reluctantly, “would you perhaps recogni—”

He straightened back up, making a big show of regret, “I think I’ve given the wrong impression.  I don’t believe my cousin _works_ at your facility, if you understand me.”

She seemed to develop a slight blush.  “Oh, of course,” she fumbled over her words, “we care for a number of unclaimed patients.”

“It has been a certain embarrassment to my family to think we may have failed to fulfill the duty owed to our cousin.  My uncle was looking to show his immense gratitude to the institution that had boarded our cousin in his stead.”

Her eyes grew wide.

The illusion of wealth, he noted, was a power even more persuasive than the one he secretly harbored.  “If you had someone available, I would be interested in taking a look around.”

“I can take you,” she volunteered without hesitation.

He pretended to be surprised, “Would you?”   

She came out from around the counter, grabbing a set of keys that hung on the back wall.

She began chattering on with nervous energy, heading to the staircase set into the wall as she did. “I think that you will be quite pleased with our residence.  We take great pride in treating our patients with decency and understanding.  They are deserving of compassion and we are proud to do God’s work.”

Jun felt an uncomfortable chill twist up his spine at her final words but gestured for her to continue.  “I’m sure you all do a fine job.”

She went ahead.  At the top of the enclosed staircase was a door that she unlocked and held open for him.

He stepped into the corridor first, feeling tall in the narrow space.  The closeness of it all made it harder to breathe.

The woman from the counter voiced behind him, “it’s just this way if you don’t mind.”  Her hand touched unexpectedly at his elbow and for the first time in years he flinched.

The woman was so alarmed she made something of a bow of apology.  “I’m so sorry, sir.”

He tried to play it off.  He adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, hoping to hide the tension in his shoulders.  He gestured that she should continue.  In the back of his head, a small voice taunted, _you must look just like him now trying to hold your head so high._

The woman moved quickly to bring him further down the corridor.  The bottom of her skirt kicked out in front of her as she moved. 

They soon entered into a wide room.  It was sparsely furnished with chairs and benches.  A few nurses dotted the room among the dozen or so patients. 

It was not what he had pictured. There was a nurse in the corner of the room reading to a patient who tapped their foot like the words were music.  A pair of men were playing cards.  It was quiet. 

Over in a small alcove where the windows followed the curve of the brick wall sat a slight form curled loosely into a chair.  He knew immediately that this was the figure he had seen at the window when he’d passed in the street.

He stepped up closer to the figure in the chair and stopped.  The woman must have followed his gaze because she started to explain quietly, “Sometimes if a patient bites. . .”

“Get rid of it,” His stomach turned over at the command in his own voice, but he didn’t take it back, anger and disturbance crawling through him to see the restraint holding the figure to the chair.

She started to move to do as he’d asked but was stopped by one of the male staff members in the room who had been watching them.

“Sarah, what on Earth—”

“Remove it,” Jun ordered again, catching the eye of the male staff member.  He could feel the control and the threat of his own expression.

The emotion dimmed out of the man’s eyes and he moved automatically.  Jun waited as he undid the restraint before he ordered him away.  The man shuffled out of sight.  He turned to the woman Sarah.  “You can leave.”  It wasn’t an order, though, and so she hesitated, confusion slowing dripping into her expression as she came out of the glamor of his command.  He knew what it felt like and the memory made his skin crawl.  He tried to say kindly, “Thank you for helping me,” but it sounded insincere.

She nodded slowly and uncertainly.  “His name is Joshua.  Let one of the nurses know when you’re ready to leave.”

When she had turned to walk away, he tried to hide the way his legs were shaking as he sat down on the floor close to the figure in the chair.  

Joshua hadn’t moved an inch, gaze fixed on the sky.  His mouth was pressed against the side of his hand forgetfully as he blinked at the sun.  The light reflecting in his eyes created the impression of whole universes settled there. 

Jun was certain, more than before, that he was in the presence of another immortal.  He couldn’t quite define the feeling.  It was like the hum that surrounded old leather-bound books—that energy of dust floating in slanted light.

He wondered if he gave off the same impression or if he resembled too much the darkness that had brought him to France two centuries before.  He saw himself from the outside:  dressed to draw the eye, looking down his nose, exchanging anger and persuasion as it suited him—just like him.

He closed his eyes and breathed in a long draught of air that came back out as a sigh.  His hand automatically found his inside pocket and he quietly gripped the rosary, pulling it out to sit draped over his lap.

He sat there for a long time but no one paid him any mind.  Perhaps the woman Sarah had hinted he had money and influence, or maybe they had visitors often.  He doubted the latter.  There was a loneliness to the calm in the room.

“I said we were cousins,” he said experimentally.  He shifted to stretch out his legs.

Joshua continued to blink slowly out the window. 

Jun didn’t mind waiting, though.  He traced one of the rosary beads with his finger and watched, praying quietly in the back of his mind—letting the pattern stabilize him against the disturbance of what he had done moments before. 

He made it through the whole set before his back began to ache from the effort of staying in that one spot on the stone floor.  Joshua had shifted a bit but never taken his eyes off of the sky or acknowledged him, drawn in completely on himself.

Jun took his watch out of his pocket to check the time.  It would probably be odd for him to stay longer than he had but he wasn’t satisfied to leave either.

“Do you often get visitors?” he tried again. 

“It’s nice when you pray.”

At first Jun wasn’t positive that Joshua had been the one to speak.  The mild voice sounded out of place within the brick walls.

Jun wanted to ask what Joshua might have meant by his rather odd compliment, but refrained from doing so at the risk of sounding rude.  “Thank you,” he said instead.

“You lied, though,” was the next comment, “about us being cousins.” There was something unnerving about how at peace Joshua seemed with the circumstances.  “I don’t have any cousins.”

“They’ll let you get away with the wildest things if they think you have money,” he agreed.

Joshua was studying him with his mouth parted forgetfully.  He seemed so insubstantial and almost see through.

“I don’t know you,” Joshua said.

“I don’t know you either,” Jun reassured.

“Then why are you here?”

“Seemed like you could use the company,” Jun answered breezily.  Somehow telling him:  I saw you at the window and couldn’t help but think we might have something in common—felt clunky and awkward.  He added, “Couldn’t resist.”

Joshua’s mouth moved slightly but whatever words he might have said stayed locked up.  Jun followed the tension down to see that Joshua was digging his nails into his leg, and that’s when he noticed the dark bruise at his wrist.

A jolt of adrenaline sent him forward to grab his arm but Joshua pulled out of reach.

Words slipped out of him with precision like a music box suddenly opened up, “One, two, one, two, and through and through.” 

Jun’s eyebrows drew together.  Joshua seemed far away again, “one, two, one, two,” became a chant under his breath.  It made Jun uncomfortable to watch.  He self-consciously moved the rosary beads back into his pocket.  “I’ve heard that poem,” he said without judgement.

“The Jabbewocky,” Joshua supplied, but he was farther away than he’d been before, further into the chair and his thoughts.  “The jaws that bite, the claws that catch.”

Jun didn’t know what to say but Joshua answered the question he hadn't asked:

“Carroll never describes the monster completely.  That's because monsters don’t always look like how you think they look.”

Jun’s mouth was dry under Joshua’s sudden direct gaze.  The eyes looked straight through him and though they did so without intensity, he felt like Joshua was seeing through him and into the darkness there.

“I’m sorry if I’ve bothered you.”

“Will you come back?” 

Jun hadn’t indicated he was leaving yet, but Joshua seemed to know.

“I could,” he answered tentatively, not sure what answer Joshua was hoping for.  He didn’t know how to do this with authority and grace.  He didn’t even know for sure if this stranger Joshua was one of them.  All he had was a feeling.  And he’d been alone for a while now.  Maybe he was just hoping.

“Well, you know where to find me.”

Jun couldn’t believe at first that he’d heard a note of humor in the other’s voice, but then he saw it sitting in his eyes.

“I’ll make an appointment downstairs,” he joked uncertainly, moving to stand.   

Something kept bothering him, though-A pinprick thought of discomfort that wouldn’t let him leave before he asked, “Are things alright here?”

Joshua’s eyes darted back to the window.  Jun waited, and Joshua answered after a moment, “Of course.”

Jun wished he believed him.  He would have felt much more comfortable walking out if he had.


	3. Scotland,  42 days since first meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seungcheol and jeonghan arrive home to some unexpected mail.

Coming home was a strange experience for Seungcheol.

He remembered vaguely the impression of years he had spent in other places in other times.  He had the fading memory of damp rooms with the smoke of candlelight--keeping watch as Wonwoo rushed to commit a passage of text to memory or notepaper until they were asked firmly to leave.  There had been cramped small towns and dark forests where he had hidden himself alone.  There were the brightly painted ceilings of cathedrals and palaces, the sound of Jeonghan’s laughter and clanking glasses. And he did especially remember the house at the foot of the hill they were returning to now:  the smell of lilac where they had spent many days in relative peace. 

But in some ways, the remote cabin they had left in the woods of Ireland felt more like home than any of it.  There, the warm quiet of the afternoon was interrupted by nothing but the flutter of leaves.  The sunlight dappled onto the ground and floated over the pathways they had walked together.  The anxiety he had carried with him for over a century melted into nothing but memory in the early morning.  He thought nothing of the moon.

Compared to the freshness of those memories, the house they were approaching now looked strange and out of date.  He asked uncertainly, “Have we got the right place?”  The house before them somehow failed to match the image he had in his mind.

“Of course we have,” Jeonghan assured without hesitation.

They passed the mailbox and Jeonghan picked up a set of envelopes from the ground.  They practically fell apart they were so waterlogged.  He dropped them immediately, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe off his hand and grumbled as he continued up the path something about, “mankind’s eternal incompetence.”

Seungcheol’s feet planted halfway up to the house and he couldn’t find the momentum to keep going.  He stared at the building in front of them and though the garden was overgrown, he was certain Jeonghan was right:  this must have been the right place.

Perhaps the envelopes stuffed into seemingly every perceivable crevice and nook of the building made it feel foreign.  They had followed all of the proper steps to close the house for the summer before their visit to the fair folk.  He would expect some mail, but not this much.

Jeonghan picked up a set of, apparently dry, envelopes off of the front porch.  He began to flip through the bundle and noted, “From Wonwoo.” 

The observation anchored the strange experience in familiarity.  Of course this was Wonwoo’s doing.  It looked like he may have sent them a novel page by page in the mail, though.  Seungcheol would not put it past him.  

He watched Jeonghan shuffle through the pile of letters.

“Wonwoo again,” Jeonghan observed.  A fifth envelope.  “Wonwoo.”  A sixth.  “Wonwoo.  Seems he wrote once a month or more.”

 _Once a month?_    Seungcheol’s gaze slipped to the dozens of other envelopes sticking between the slates in the porch, on the windowsills, stuck under the door, caught in the bushes, closed in the screen. 

The overgrown weeds wrapping around the outside of the home seemed bigger now.  One of the shutters was crooked where it hadn’t been before. 

“Jeonghan,” his words tilted out of his mouth, “how long were we gone?”

The other stopped to consider the question. “A while, I suppose.  I don’t tend to count.  Why would I?”  He looked across to where Seungcheol still stood on the dirt path leading to their home. 

Seungcheol could feel his fingers digging nervously into his palms.  “Jeonghan. . . I thought we were gone for the summer.”  Come to think of it, he couldn’t capture an impression of how long they’d been in Ireland.  He couldn’t remember what month it should be now. 

“We were definitely gone through the summer,” Jeonghan commented unhelpfully.

A tirade of thoughts forced its way through Seungcheol’s mouth before he’d had time to consider it, “Jeonghan, you know that I’m _obsessive_ about time.  Before I open my eyes in the morning, I've figured out the days until the moon and what the approximate time sundown is.  I can’t have lost track of time.”

“Fine then.  Tell me how many times you transformed in Ireland.”

The breeziness of Jeonghan’s voice set his distress off kilter.  He stilled, going to count but knowing already he wouldn’t be able to. 

Jeonghan smiled.  “You are immortal, Seungcheol.  You don’t lose years. You either use them or don’t.”

He noticed again the sheer amount of mail piled around their house.  His shock trickled into concern. “What was Wonwoo writing so often about?  Is he okay?”  He wondered how long the mail had sat on their porch unanswered.  And yet Wonwoo had kept writing.

Jeonghan slid his fingers over the envelopes in his hand and said confidently, “I’m sure he’s alright,” and it didn’t sound like a guess.  However, he did open one of the letters and scan it quickly. 

“Just seems like he’s keeping us informed on how things are going.  He's found an apprentice in America.”

“When is the letter dated?”

Jeonghan flipped the letter over.  “January.”

He felt dizzy.  “Jeonghan, how were we in Ireland that whole time?  It never even snowed.”

Not bothering to look up, Jeonghan answered, “Well, that’s what happens in faerie country.  They have less care for time than I do.” He continued scanning through the envelopes and his voice touched with interest, “Ah, we’ve got one here from Jun, even.”

Seuncheol perked up with surprise, “From our Jun?”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow teasingly at the phrase “our Jun,” but he was already opening the envelope. 

Seungcheol came up onto the porch, curiosity and disbelief drawing him in.  Jun hadn’t bothered to keep in touch much even when they were readily available.

“ _I hope this letter finds you well,”_ Jeonghan read _. “If not entirely well then at least somewhat decent.”_ Jeonghan interrupted himself with wry amusement, “Seungcheol, I think he’s making fun of us,” before he continued, “ _I suppose you’d be surprised, but I could use your assistance in London.  I have already made attempts to contact our other friend.  I hope you will all come.  In fact, I know that you will due to your uncontrollable desire to appear supportive._ Ah, that’s our Jun, for you.”

“When did he send that?”

“Can’t have been too long.  There’s not much weather damage like some of the others.  Forgot to date it, though.”

“We’re going, right?” Seungcheol asked.

Jeonghan sighed, “London’s bad for my skin.”

“It’s a city.”

“A city that is bad for my skin.”

“He never asks for help.”

“He didn’t even leave an address.  I’m going to have to do all the hard work to locate him.  I hope that we’re not being called in to clean up a string of murders.  Can’t imagine why he needs all three of us.”

“You know that Jun wouldn’t.”

The sobering comment knocked the humor out of Jeonghan’s expression. “Of course.  Well, now that we’ve barely arrived home we’re expected to turn around and go out again."

“To be fair, had we gone with the original plan to only be gone for the summer we would have been home long before now.” 

“You can’t blame me entirely for that,” Jeonghan teased, pulling at the collar of Seungcheol’s shirt, “you were having as good of a time as I was.”

“Are you guys going to need a moment?” 

Seungcheol tripped over his own feet at the unexpected voice, but Jeonghan stayed precisely where he was. 

The disbelief in his voice made his tone pitch nearly a whole octave higher, at the sight of the fae leaning against their mailbox. “How long have you been there?”

“Quite literally the entire time.” Woozi answered.

Seungcheol couldn’t organize his words, he threw a helpless look at Jeonghan and then sputtered out, “The entire time?” 

“Oh yes,” Woozi said, raising an eyebrow in a way that suggested disappointment.  “The entire time.  Since you left Ireland.”

“I knew he was there.  It's fine.”

The casual admission from Jeonghan sent Seungcheol’s eyebrows flying into his hairline:  “And you didn’t think to mention it?”

Woozi mused, “I assumed you knew.”

“You were _invisible._ ”

“Animals and other immortals notice me all the time. I didn’t know werewolves would be an exception. Fae get blamed for spooking horses and that’s not a mistake.”

He heard the honesty in Woozi’s response and tried to control his exasperation.  There must have been a reason Woozi followed after them.  They hadn't known each other for long in Ireland.  Woozi hadn't stuck around long after filling his end of the bargain.  Although, he did mention that was more to distance himself from the rest of the fair folk rather than a personal thing.  “Why did you follow us?” Seungcheol asked.

“What was I going to do with my time?  Stay in fairy land?”

“I meant,” S. Coups said helplessly, knowing he was going to lose his battle to be justified in his alarm, “We’re glad to see you.  But you could have traveled _with_ us.  You didn't have to sneak.”

“Sounds bothersome.”

“Are you coming to London?”

Woozi shrugged at Jeonghan’s question.  “Got nothing better to do.”

Seungcheol gave Jeonghan what he hoped was a subtle look.  He wasn’t sure that was the best idea.

“I’m sure it’s not a private matter,” Jeonghan answered (to his embarrassment) out loud.  “Like you said, Jun wouldn’t.”

“Is he the witch or the vampire?”

“How do you know any of that?” 

“I’ll reiterate that I’ve been following you the entire time.”

“The vampire,” Jeonghan answered.  “And if we plan on doing this we should head inside now.  But know ahead of time that if Wonwoo’s spell work didn’t hold and this house is full of critters I am not going to be the one getting rid of them for you.  I plan on sleeping peacefully for the next 14 hours until we have to head to that horrible nightmare city tomorrow.”

“We'll leave that soon?”

“Can’t keep our Jun waiting.”

Seungcheol looked back then.  “Come on in,” he gestured, inviting Woozi up to the house. 

The fae almost looked confused like the thought of entering a house was familiar and yet somehow painful to him.  But he did follow after them up the front porch steps. 

Seungcheol tried not to linger on it, but he noticed the way Woozi paused at the door, his hand touching at the doorframe, something like a reflective frown on his face before he stepped inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in some of the Ireland storyline there's a little peek into it on my tumblr here:  
> http://kayeblaise.tumblr.com/post/157585750481/title-scotland-circa-1870-changing
> 
> Sidenote: I'm going to pretend there's a reason I wantonly go back and forth on using Seungcheol or S. Coups depending on the "Part" or chapter but in all honesty it's mostly because I would prefer to use stage names but S. turns into a 1. sometimes and I have to hand fix it and it's annoying, haha.


	4. America, 31 days since first meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wonwoo writes letters and mingyu questions why

Under the glow of candlelight, Wonwoo was scratching out a letter at his desk.  He had been doing so long before Mingyu entered the room and spun around a chair to sit and watch him. 

Mingyu sat the wrong way in the chair, arms folded over the back.  He had dropped his chin down to rest on his arms and tried to count the number of times Wonwoo touched the end of his pen to his mouth in thought.

It was obvious who he was writing to.

“Why do you keep writing to them if you know they won’t write back?”

With his focus still on the letter, Wonwoo answered absentmindedly, “Because they are my friends and that’s what you do.  You write to your friends.”  He stopped to scribble on a piece of scrap paper to encourage the ink to flow properly then added, “And Jun writes back every now and then.”

Mingyu was pretty sure that it had only been once, excluding the most recent letter.  “Why not send Hoshi to check in with them when he comes around?  Can’t he just hop over across the ocean and talk to them and come back? He's an imp.  He can show up anywhere he wants.”

Wonwoo sighed, put down the pen, and pushed back in his chair.  The light from the hurricane lamp was hitting the line of his cheekbones and it made him seem worn out.  “Hoshi doesn’t know where they are.”  It was true that Hoshi still checked in with Jun on rare occasions, but none of them had heard from Jeonghan and Seungcheol in a while.  He had avoided getting worried by reminding himself that no danger could really have befallen them--especially on Jeonghan’s watch.

Mingyu tapped his foot as he thought over Wonwoo’s words, tilting his head to the side.  “So, if Hoshi doesn’t know where they are, does that mean they’re not at their house?”

“Apparently not,” Wonwoo answered irritably.

“Then why do you keep sending letters over there if—?”

“Because eventually they will be at the house and they will get the letters and they will read them,” Wonwoo answered shortly, dropping one elbow onto the desk and gesturing at Mingyu emphatically as if to invite him to ask another frustrating question.

Mingyu sat up straight and scrunched his face.  “I was only asking.  Sorry I can’t read your mind.”

Wonwoo turned his forehead into his palm and rubbed at his temples for a moment.  “No, never mind,” he relented apologetically, “it’s late, I’m tired, I haven’t packed—”

“You’re worried about the trip,” Mingyu concluded.  

“I don’t like boats,” Wonwoo grumbled.  He raised his volume to ask, “Did you finish work on the warding ritual I showed you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you remember the fireplace?”

Mingyu paused too long to be reassuring.  “Sort of.”

Wonwoo didn’t have the energy to sigh, but he tried to look disappointed as he said, “Mingyu, I’ve told you half a dozen times, any portal is an open invitation to outside forces.  You have to think of these things:  doors, windows, fireplaces.”

“I know, I know.” He had actually remembered the fireplace, but he had also dropped and broken the candle Wonwoo had magicked for him to use.  He’d finished strengthening the protections on the house while holding the two pieces of the candle together and just hoping it would still work.

“While I’m gone it’s going to be your responsibility to keep up with those things.”

"Yes.  I know."

"And now that you've started on spellwork it's going to be even more important that you're careful of attracting attention."

“I got it,” he complained, “stop worrying so much.”

“I have to worry.  You still haven’t learned anything.”

Mingyu stood up to his full height. His face was half in shadows where the candlelight couldn’t reach and he argued, “If you think I’m that incapable of taking care of myself, why won't you let me go with you to London?”

The candle on the desk flickered and danced violently, almost going out before the flame stabilized and grew back to its original form.  Wonwoo observed it for a moment thoughtfully, something unsettled in his expression.  Then he looked up at Mingyu who was trying to even out the heave of his breath and the anger knit between his eyebrows.

When Mingyu asked, “Are you embarrassed for your friends to meet me?” the words came out lacking in true power.

“I don’t know what business I’m being called to deal with over there,” Wonwoo explained, “I told you that things are complicated sometimes.”

“I’m not dumb.  I understand that.  But you’re going to go off with your friends and decide you don’t want to come back.”

“That wouldn’t happen.”

“It could,” Mingyu answered firmly. 

Wonwoo couldn’t tell him honestly that he was wrong.  He also knew that Mingyu was dreadfully afraid of being abandoned again but he had no intention of doing that to him.

“All of you have lived ages and you have this history that I have no part of and you’d much rather be with them instead of sitting around trying to teach me—”

“Mingyu, come to London.”

“—and I know you didn’t really want an apprentice and I just bothered you until you caved, but it’s not fair to leave me behind now when I don’t know anything."

“Mingyu, _come to London.”_

“—What?”

“You’re right,” Wonwoo agreed, “I don’t know what Jun has asked us over for but in all likelihood Hoshi will be there and if they somehow got the message I expect Jeonghan and Seungcheol will come along, too.  You should be part of it.  You should meet them.”

“Really?” Mingyu seemed surprised that his ranting had worked.

Wonwoo wasn’t sure what he was so surprised for, though.  That was always how he got what he wanted.

“Yes,” he confirmed, returning the pen to its holder. “And it’s not your fault you don’t know anything.  No one taught you.”

“There was no one around to.”

“I know,” Wonwoo said gently.  He stood, content to leave the rest of the letter unwritten.  He didn’t write expecting a response.  He wrote to help organize his thoughts.  There was a lot to think about.  And although he was sure Mingyu wouldn’t mind, he refused to dump his thoughts on the younger, especially since a lot of them concerned him directly.

“Are you sure they won’t be mad if you bring me?”

“They won’t be.”

“Are you sure?”

Wonwoo reached out and pulled at Mingyu’s ear.  The other winced and complained and Wonwoo said, “You need to start listening better the first time.”

Once Wonwoo had let go, Mingyu, with a purposefully ridiculous pout on his face, complained, “I was just making sure.”

Wonwoo hid his smile and returned to his desk to take the candle with him.  He extinguished the hurricane lamp as he did. “You should start packing.  We’re going to have to leave early tomorrow.”

“What if I don’t want to go.”

Wonwoo rounded back and Mingyu had a devilish grin on his face as he fled the room.  A few seconds later there was a thud and the sound of something probably breaking.

The exhale that huffed out of Wonwoo resembled a laugh but he looked down at the candle in his hand and the grin slowly faded as he thought of it flickering with the anger in Mingyu's face.  There was a lot that the younger still had to learn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incapable of linear storytelling so use chapter titles to help with times/places. They're all just marked by how many days away from Jun first meeting Joshua the moment is. 
> 
> I'm going to add two chapters because I wrote a lot this weekend. I don't want to deviate too far from the main point of this storyline, but I also felt like knowing where the others were coming from would be helpful. It's also where the timeline from my blog might come in handy just to understand what point in their lives this is. (http://kayeblaise.tumblr.com/timeline)


	5. London, 34 days since the first meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jun walks out of st. mark's with the book he walked in with

Jun arrived at St. Mark’s Asylum with a book under his arm and a lightness to his steps.  The sun was high enough to cut through the autumn chill in the air but far enough away that the breeze stayed fresh.

When he walked inside, he dipped his head at Sarah at the front desk. 

The usual smile on her face fluttered uncertainly at the sight of him.  “Oh, Jun.”

“I’m just going to head up if that’s okay.”

“Of course, but—”

“I only have a short amount of time today,” he said, walking backward toward the stairway so he could throw her a winning smile.  “I have friends arriving in town any day now.”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ll be right back down,” he promised, and turned back to take the stairs at a light jog.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he could hear what sounded like her footsteps coming up after him, but he ignored them and moved on down the hall.  Holding the book close he cracked it open to the dog-eared page to check one last time that the note was still there.  Energized at the sight of the conspiracy he’d carefully sketched in the pages, he snapped the book shut and continued ahead down the hall. During the day, all of the patients were out of their rooms and he knew exactly where Joshua would be on a day like this.

When he emerged out of the hallway, one or two of the caretakers that now recognized him turned and gave him odd looks, mouths open slightly like they intended to say something but didn’t know what. 

And that’s when Sarah caught up behind him.  He could feel her hand almost touch on his arm but stop.  The lightness that had filled Jun’s body a moment ago started to dissolve.

Over by the window was a man in a suit.  Jun could tell immediately that this was the reason the atmosphere in the room was heavy and off-center.  He had never seen this man before.  When the man turned, Jun saw that he had been standing over by where Joshua sat on the floor.

It took a few moments for the room to settle.  The nurses and staff returned to their original tasks except for Sarah who was still near behind him when the man in the suit came to stand in front of him. Agitation settled in his hands.

“Can I help you with something?” the man asked, his eyes trailed down to the book under Jun’s arm.  Jun somehow wished he could hide it.  He could feel the tightness in the air and in Sarah’s voice as she said quietly, “Excuse us, doctor.  Jun, you’ve come at a rather inopportune time. . .”

“Ah, you are that Jun.” The way he said _that_ made it sound the way someone would say mud.  “I’m afraid that we’re not allowing visitors at the moment.”

“I’ve never had issues with that before,” Jun said stiffly.  He had no idea who this man was but he walked and spoke as if he was important and Jun didn’t care for that. 

“Well, it is my right to deny visitors when I feel it is in the best interest of a patient.”

Something about the words had Jun’s blood boiling.  He let his gaze slip past the man to where Joshua was still sitting on the floor looking out the window.  He wondered why Joshua hadn’t turned yet at the commotion.  Hadn’t said hello.  Hadn’t seemed to know he was there before he saw him like he always did.  He brought his gaze up to meet level with the doctor’s confident eyes.  It was familiar and loathsome to him and worst of all, he was sure that the doctor knew that.

Sarah’s voice drifted into his focus, “Excuse us, sir. . .”

Jun brushed by the man in the suit and walked straight over to the windows. He crouched down and called, “Joshua,” pushing a hand at his arm.

The other didn’t even look his way.  He was scrunched down against the wall forgetfully with an arm wrapped up around his head—like the first day but worse.  This time he didn’t seem to see the window.

The hollowness in Joshua and the shadow of the doctor standing behind him rose Jun back to his feet with rigid anger.

“What did you do to him?” Jun demanded threateningly under his breath.

“He’s disturbed.  He’s always been like that.”

“That’s not true,” Jun protested although part of him wondered if it was, “he was fine last time I was here.”

The doctor didn’t budge.  “I think that it’s fair of me to ask what business you think you have here.”

“I'm visiting my cousin—”

“What is your proof of that?” 

The question sank into Jun slowly.  At first it felt harmless enough, but then the doctor’s voice settled uncomfortably close to his skin.

"I see.”

His confidence wobbled.

“There is no proof,” the doctor concluded, sharing a pointed look with Sarah. There was pride in his words now as he said, “Truth be told, I’m disturbed by what I’m told is the frequency of your visits.  If it had been under my watch things would not have proceeded as they have until today.  My staff is very well meaning but they really should have demanded proof of your relationship to my patient before _inviting you in_.”

There was no possible way for the doctor to know what he was.  Jun understood that there was no possible way, and yet he wondered at the suggestion that he needed to be invited in.  His breath came up short. The only thing that kept him stable was that he hadn't tried to move or answer.

They didn’t look the same.  And Jun knew it was the illusion of his fear, but he wondered for a moment at what seemed to be a sparkle of amusement in the doctor's eyes before his gaze slid back to Joshua and he knew he couldn't let him stay here.  Whatever Joshua might have said.

Finding enough confidence for this, he threatened quietly, “If you’ve done anything at all to hurt him you will have hell to pay.  I promise you that.”

"Hell to pay?"  The airy note of triumph that undercut the doctor's words was taunting.  “Should I remind you of who is in charge here?”

And suddenly the tone and words had Jun back in time.  His jaw hurt like a hand was gripping it bruisingly but the doctor was just looking at him with smug eyes. They didn't look the same. And Jun had killed him so he knows it's just the illusion of his fear.

"I don't know what ground you think you stand on, but I am doing what I need to for my patients.  You are the one who has been stalking a disturbed individual for close to a month now as I'm told."

Jun couldn’t swallow the lead in his throat, couldn't shake the feeling that somehow this stranger knew him—knew things about him he’d never spoken of and couldn’t speak of.  He tried to blink away the sound of his own voice in the back of his head.  He looked again at Joshua.

“Your obsession is not natural, Jun.  You are disturbing my patient and I’m going to ask you to leave so that I may continue my work in peace.”

Jun looked back at the doctor and could not form a single word.  He turned, and he drifted back toward the hallway.  There might have been multiple sets of eyes that watched him leave but he didn’t notice them, couldn’t feel them, couldn’t feel anything past the way his heart was beating so high in his throat. 

He walked out of St. Mark’s Asylum with the book he walked in with.


	6. London, 46 days since the first meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which jun dodges questions, jeonghan asks them, and seungcheol tries to keep up

The evening was painted with the dull prattling of the fountain as they paced around the center of the empty park. Birds were singing somewhere in the distance unseen and it was peaceful considering the reputation the city had. 

“Marco,” Jeonghan sang lightly.  He paused to wait for an answer.

“I don’t think he’ll hear you like that,” Seungcheol commented.  He walked toward one of the green benches on the edge of the flagstone walkway to wait.  Jeonghan continued to circle the fountain, tracing the tree line expectantly.

“He’ll be here soon,” he answered confidently. 

An image of the fountain was flashed into the back of Seungcheol’s mind as proof.  Jeonghan must have been sending the same image to Jun, but he didn’t know for how long.  It could very well be a while yet.  He bent his head backward so he could look at the way the trees had turned to silhouettes in the dimming light of dusk.  “It’s nice out for this time of year.”

“Bit cold.”

“You always find something to complain about,” Seungcheol sighed, not being serious.

“Polo.”

Seungcheol rose up from the bench.  It took him a moment to spot Jun standing where the hill ran out into the marble wall that circled the fountain area.

“Would you look who it is,” he remarked with a smile.

Jun stepped over to their side, and by the time he’d straightened himself out Jeonghan had come across the gap to join him. “Hi, stranger.”

Jun let himself be pulled into a hug. 

“You’re late,” he said, standing somewhat sheepishly with Jeonghan stuck to his side, “We weren’t sure you were coming.”

“We got held up in Ireland,” Seungcheol apologized, making his way over. 

“Wonwoo had you beat by a week,” Jun joked in an almost hesitant way, “and he was coming from America.”

There was something tense in the way his shoulders were raised toward his ears—in the way his eyes kept darting out around the park.  Seungcheol wanted to tell him to relax but wasn’t sure how it would come across. Jeonghan shaped the sentiment into something kinder:

“How have you been?”

“Hoshi’s been popping in for the past three days waiting for you to arrive.  He said you’d be showing up soon.”

“Wonderful, Jun, but how are you doing?”

Jun kept plowing on, “And Wonwoo brought the kid.”

“The apprentice?” Seungcheol wondered.  He hadn’t wanted to interrupt until Jeonghan got an answer but he was curious.

“Yeah,” Jun answered.  “Not so much a kid, actually—”

“Jun, darling,” Jeonghan interrupted, ignoring the way Jun cringed as he squeezed at the back of his neck, “it would be wonderful if you would tell me how you’ve been.”

When Jeonghan let go, Jun rubbed at the back of his neck self-consciously.  Seungcheol wasn’t sure how Jeonghan always got away with things like that.  He couldn’t picture himself trying the same thing successfully.

“Things are okay.”

“You don’t call us to London because things are okay, Jun.” 

Seungcheol could feel the intensity with which Jeonghan had fixed his eyes on the other.  He imagined they were talking now between the two of them.  He tried not to begrudge being left out of the conversation.  He also tried not to think too hard about how Jun looked like he hadn’t slept well in a while.

_He’s rattled but he can’t tell me why._

Caught off guard, Seungcheol felt his hand start to jump automatically to his head, but he stopped himself and pretended there was a bug he was trying to swat.

_Why?_ he asked back, noting that Jeonghan hadn’t taken his eyes off of Jun.  He was comfortable with Jeonghan’s voice in the back of his head, but he couldn’t figure out how Jeonghan seemed to be talking to him at the same time as he carried on a conversation with Jun.

_That’s what I’m worried about._

Seungcheol wished that Jeonghan would give him a little less credit, because he didn’t understand what he was trying to tell him.

_I’m going to ask him to tell us the whole thing out loud so that you’re in on it._

Jeonghan gave no sign that he’d spoken to him at all while he asked Jun aloud, “Why don’t you tell us what we need to know.”

And Jun started telling them about the boy at the asylum.

. . .

“They probably hope he freezes to death so they don’t have to pay to care for him anymore.”

It had grown dark as the story unfolded.  Jeonghan sat on the edge of the fountain and Seungcheol stood next to him.  They watched Jun pace with increasing agitation. 

“And there's nothing wrong with him.  Even if he is crazy, he’s not dangerous.  It’s not his fault.  He’s not going to hurt anyone.  Whatever they think they’re doing that bastard of a doctor is just torturing him.”

Seungcheol noticed the sadness pulling at Jeonghan’s otherwise serene face.  He always seemed to glow a bit under the moonlight, and now it accentuated the worry lines just between his eyebrows.  He knew from practice or experience that Jeonghan’s sadness was directed not at the story but at Jun.  Jeonghan’s gaze was touching on Jun’s face like a gentle hand.

“Do you hear yourself, dear?” Jeonghan said softly.

Seungcheol noticed a slip of fear behind Jun’s eyes when he caught the way they were both looking at him.  Seungcheol was only now understanding himself what Jeonghan was seeing and it made his heart break.

“It’s not his fault,” Jeonghan repeated, his eyes locked with Jun’s.  “He’s not dangerous.”

Jun’s limbs seemed weighted down but his expression was alive and flickering.  “Yes.  I know.”

_You don’t._

Jeonghan said it for both of them to hear.

He had to bite his lip as he noticed Jun’s arms cross his torso like a defense.

_It’s like Chartes,_ he thought, hoping Jeonghan would hear him, _that’s why he’s so bothered by it._

The ominous response _I wish you were right,_ left him cold.

Unaware of their exchange, Jun asked suddenly, “Are you here to help me get him out or not?”

Jeonghan’s face held a sad smile.  “Of course.”

Seungcheol added, “How can we help?”

“I don’t know,” Jun admitted awkwardly, “I don’t know what to do.”

Very carefully, Seungcheol suggested, “If you want to break him out, could you just be persuasive?”

He was surprised by a starburst image behind his eyes courtesy of Jeonghan.  It was actually just an image of Jeonghan’s hand smacking him in the face, which stayed burned into his eyes for a bit as he blinked it away.  He knew the glamor issue was a sensitive topic for Jun, but he thought the suggestion was fair.

Swallowing noticeably and glancing off to the side, Jun dismissed, “No.  I need to figure out a way to get in and out without being seen.” 

“I guess I could help with that.”

Seungcheol and Jun both jumped a mile at the unexpected voice, but Jeonghan stayed precisely where he was. 

Hand clutching at his heart, Seungcheol exhaled, “Damn it, Woozi.”

The fae was standing barely an arm’s length away.

Jun eyed him without any real suspicion: “I guess Wonwoo wasn’t the only one who invited guests.”

“Sorry,” Seungcheol sighed, “I keep forgetting—”

“This can work, though,” Woozi said, ignoring the controversy to refocus on the plan.  “You need to break into an asylum without being seen.  I can make that happen.”

“How?” Jun asked, apparently unbothered that the advice was coming from a stranger.

“Woozi can push illusions,” Jeonghan supplied.   

Woozi went on to elaborate, “You won’t be invisible, but people won’t see you unless they’re looking for you or unless you want them to.”

Jeonghan added quickly, “But you wouldn’t want to go yourself, Jun.  They could see through the illusion since your familiar to them.”

“But if you can turn invisible,” Seungcheol addressed Woozi, “couldn’t you break in and unlock the doors?  Then he can walk out on his own.”

“They’d probably notice that one of their patients was escaping.”

Ruffled, Seungcheol countered, “Then Hoshi could help.  You said he was here, Jun, right?  He can make a distraction.”

Jun hesitated, “Even with a distraction he’s got to make it past the front desk and all of the other staff upstairs.”

“This feels like something Wonwoo would enjoy working on.”

“Trust me, he’s been trying,” Jun said, “I left him back at the flat.  If you want we could make our way back there.”

“The great city awaits,” Jeonghan said under his breath with heavy sarcasm.

Jun didn’t hear him, but he stopped to add, “Oh, but when we get there don’t try to shake Mingyu’s hand.  He doesn’t shake hands.”

“Why not?”

“He’s psychic or something.”

An odd frown came over Jeonghan’s face.  “Really?”

Jun shrugged.

“But he’s a witch, right?”

Seungcheol decided to step in, since he really didn’t understand what they were talking about and he was getting tired of waiting.  “Let’s just get going.  We can talk at the apartment.”

He linked arms with Jeonghan but the other gasped in a shockingly painful way and pulled his arm free.

Even the sound of the fountain seemed to fade as they all looked at Jeonghan with alarm.  He was breathing with his mouth open and it made him seem oddly young. He flipped his head a bit to move the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes out of the way.  When he registered all of them staring at him, he sighed and straightened out.  He then unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and rolled up the sleeve.

The sound of Woozi hissing through his teeth broke the world back into motion.

Seungcheol stepped closer to Jeonghan and took hold of his arm under the elbow and wrist, eyes growing wide at the red irritation that ran up and down his arm like hives. 

“I told you London was bad for my skin,” Jeonghan said, that tight smile on his face.

“I thought you were joking.”

“It’s a horribly polluted nightmare city, why would I be joking?”

“You can’t stay here.”

“I’ll leave when I have to,” Jeonghan commented, rolling his sleeve back down.

Jeonghan caught Jun watching him guiltily.  “I’m here because I want to be,” he reassured.  Under his breath he added jokingly, “but my people knew how to build cities without poisoning everyone.”

Either because he was trying to lighten the mood or simply because he enjoying being contrary, Woozi said, “Your people haven’t built cities since the Vikings.”

“Your people never built anything,” Jeonghan shot back airily.

Woozi scrunched up his nose.  “They’re not my people.”

“Oh this will be fun,” Seungcheol sighed, shooting an exasperated look at Jun.  “Lead the way.”

Somehow there was something oddly comfortable about Woozi and Jeonghan bickering along the way, the sound replacing the murmur of the fountain as they left the park behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of pacing I cut out a chapter I'd written but decided to post it on tumblr here. (http://kayeblaise.tumblr.com/post/163816715946/luggage-london-1870) It happens between this chapter and the previous chapter.


	7. St. Mark's Asylum, 9:08 a.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joshua 9:8: And they said unto Joshua, We are thy servants. And Joshua said unto them, Who are ye? and from whence come ye?

“I haven’t had so much fun since Edinburgh.  You would not believe how many witches hang around colleges.”  Hoshi babbled on for a moment, the excitement of it all energizing him.  But the words faded into the background as Woozi held out his hand.  He was staring intently at the figure sitting against the wall, eyes closed, chin against his chest.

The person was definitely the one that Jun had described:  everything down to the angry red mark he could just see visible behind his ear.  Jun had been right in almost everything so far, but he’d been wrong in one aspect:  they hadn’t found him in the main room by the window.  They had found him in his otherwise empty room. 

“Hoshi,” he interrupted, the thought forming at the same time as it came out of his mouth, “something’s wrong.”

“What?” the imp asked briskly, almost bouncing on his toes.

Woozi bent and picked up a small stone from the ground.  He skipped the pebble across the floor.  It bounced against the figure’s leg with no reaction.

“You need to go to the others and tell them to send someone up here,” Woozi said clearly now that he was certain.

“Why?”

“Because he’s sick. I won’t be able to carry him out of here and neither will you.”

Hoshi’s eyes settled on the faint rise and fall of breath in Joshua’s chest.  He had seen enough people ill or dying before to know that Woozi was right.  He nodded seriously. “Got it.  I’ll be back in a flash.”  He vanished from sight.

 .  . .

Wonwoo pulled the watch out of his pocket and squinted across to the clock in the square to make sure the times lined up correctly.  He had mapped the plan in his head down to the minute.  Any second now Hoshi and Woozi would be revealing themselves to Joshua upstairs and relating the plan.  As soon as Hoshi came back outside to give him the go ahead, he would enter the asylum himself and distract the woman at the front desk, giving time for Joshua to slip outside.  That was assuming Woozi and Hoshi’s distractions worked upstairs and Joshua managed to slip out unseen.  And all of that was assuming Joshua would listen to two strangers appearing quite literally out of nowhere.

Mingyu and Jun were waiting at a small distance, prepared to run interference and to lead Joshua away to the cab where Seungcheol was waiting. 

It was far too soon when Hoshi appeared on the street corner.  He opened his mouth to talk but Wonwoo dragged him backward away from the sweep of people bustling down the street, asking with bewilderment, “What are you doing?”  He eyed the people passing by.  Thankfully none of them turned their way.

“Woozi needs help,” Hoshi explained. 

Jun had jogged across the street to join them by then and Mingyu came trailing after him.

“What do you mean?” Wonwoo pressed, knowing it was difficult to get a straight answer out of Hoshi, “What happened?”

“It’s Joshua, obviously,” Jun supplied in a voice that was almost angry in how cold it was.  Wonwoo tried to exchange glances with him but he didn’t look back. 

“Yes,” Hoshi answered.

“Is he hurt?—”

Hoshi shrugged.  “I think he’s sick. Woozi isn’t going to be able to carry him and so he needs someone to help.” He turned to Mingyu unexpectedly, “As an imp, or as we are known in some circles, a familiar, I will be prevented from providing additionally heavy lifting or support, though my many talents extend to other things such as shape shifting and origami."  He sounded like he was teaching.  Mingyu seemed just as confused as the rest of them.

“Alright,” Wonwoo acknowledged as plans started to rearrange in his mind.  Someone would need to go up to help but Jun would draw suspicion even going inside, and putting it kindly, Mingyu wasn’t good with misdirection.  That left him to be the one to distract the receptionist, still. “Mingyu,” he decided, “If Woozi comes down and works an illusion, you could sneak upstairs while I—”

“I can’t,” Mingyu said regretfully, holding up his hands that were half buried in his sleeves.

Almost embarrassed that he had forgotten, Wonwoo agreed,  "Right, of course, especially where we don’t know what he is we shouldn’t risk it.”  The last thing they needed was Mingyu stunning himself making direct contact with an unknown immortal.

“If I could have done it myself I would have.” Jun said, his voice direct and low, “They know me too well.”  Everything he had said so far had been almost under his breath—like he was angry at them even though they had all volunteered to help.

“I’ll have to go, then.” Wonwoo said matter-of-factly.

“What about Sarah?”

“Who?”

“The woman at the front desk.”

Wonwoo paused, thinking through the remaining members of their group.  Hoshi and Woozi couldn’t be downstairs and upstairs at the same time and it would take both of them to keep the residents and staff distracted on the second floor and to make sure he wasn’t noticed.

“What if Mingyu goes and switches places with Seungcheol?” he proposed although the idea was half formed, “Then we could—”

“We can’t waste time on this,” Jun urged, “we have to be out before 10.”   

During the planning, Jun hadn’t made it exactly clear why they had to be gone by 10 or why he thought it important that they carry out the plan in the daylight hours.  None of them had found enough reasons to convince him otherwise, though, and they were doing this on his behalf.  There was only one solution now, but it wasn’t one Jun would like.  He wished that Jeonghan was there still, because he didn’t want to share his thoughts out loud in front of Mingyu or Hoshi. 

He set his eyes on Jun and prayed he understood the message sitting there.  He was apologizing without a word, hoping that the other would know what he was asking him to do.

It took a moment, but Jun’s dark eyes melted into something dismayed and accepting.

“What?” Mingyu wondered, not understanding the silence that had overtaken them.

“I can convince her not to notice,” Jun decided, his voice raspy at first.  He coughed and repeated, “I’ll distract downstairs if you go up and get him.”

Wonwoo nodded, and tried to show in his expression that he understood the sacrifice Jun was making. 

“Mingyu stay out here and wait for us to return.  If the gods are with us this shouldn’t take long.”

“I for one am good to go,” Hoshi said before Wonwoo could get a word of instruction out to him.  

“Let’s hope,” Wonwoo said grimly, “Make sure Woozi knows I’ll need his help to sneak upstairs.”

Jun stepped up closer to him and said quietly, “I can distract her for about ten minutes before it will get rough.  I don’t want to command anyone unless I have to.”

Wonwoo nodded and wished there could be another way.  He looked over at the clock:  it was 9:18. They had enough time.  The only thing they had to worry over was whether or not the distractions would work.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of posting chapter 8 as well tonight since it's mostly complete.
> 
> Also half-told stories aka why we've time jumped forward again to rescue day.


	8. St. Mark's Asylum, 9:45 a.m.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joshua 9:4-5 However, when the people of Gibeon heard what Joshua had done to Jericho and Ai, they resorted to a ruse: They went as a delegation whose donkeys were loaded with worn-out sacks and old wineskins, cracked and mended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super vague implications but sail carefully friends

Mingyu saw the man striding toward the building and in a flash of alarm knew he was going to have to intercept him.  Ignoring the crackle of anxiety around his heart, he stepped directly into the man’s path. 

“Excuse me!” he almost shouted.

The man was clearly taken aback.  “Yes?”

“I—was wondering if—if you could tell me what time it is.”

Relaxing in steps from the initial alarm of the encounter, the man took out his watch.  “Quarter to 10.”  He looked up again with an expression that was almost condescending, like he was pleased to have recovered his composure in the face of such an unpleasant intrusion and was hoping Mingyu would now, thankfully, leave. 

Mingyu couldn’t move.  He knew he had to say something else.  Something to help stall the man some more until Jun and the others came out of the building.

“I’m sorry.  Did you have another question you were waiting to ask me?”

“Yes,” Mingyu began, glancing around for anything to spark his brain into motion.  “Um, do you know anything about the building over there?”

The man looked around the block like he was hoping there would be some kind of bizarre addition to one of the plain brick buildings around the street. 

When he found none, he asked, “Which building?” with such a combination of impatience and condescension it was palpable. 

“Uh, that one,” Mingyu said, gesturing toward the one building he should _not_ have drawn attention to.

“That one?” the man confirmed out of skepticism.

“Yes?”

The man shifted into a more firm stance and said, “It’s an asylum.  St. Mark’s.  I work there.”

Mingyu didn’t really have a follow-up to that but he tried lamely. “Oh.  That must be nice.”

“Not particularly.”

Mingyu could feel his pulse threading uncomfortably under his jawline.  This wasn’t going well at all.  The man now seemed determined to hear the end of what Mingyu was going to say. 

He tried, “So, what do you do there?”

“Is there something in particular I can help you with or are you in the business of intruding on others in the spirit of pure curiosity?”

Mingyu’s heart squirmed uncomfortably in his chest.  “I don’t know.”

The man’s expression was still drawn tightly together, but there was a shift to something like interest in his eyes.

“Oh,” he suddenly said, his voice dropping in formality, “I should have recognized you.”

Mingyu flashed his eyes around uncertainly.  “Me?”

“Yes, of course.”

Mingyu’s heart was now beating right at the front of his throat.  He tried to focus on anything else.  Like the extraordinary darkness that extended through the man’s pupils.    

“Is the rest of the gang already inside?” 

Mingyu tried to drag himself out of his fixation but he couldn’t figure out why the man seemed more authoritative than before, like he’d shed a second skin.

The man in the suit raised a finger.  “We should go say hello, then.”

It was too late to pretend that he had no idea what was going on.  He knew with sudden clarity that this wasn’t a mortal man and that they had no clue what they had walked into.

. . .

There were footsteps on the stairs.  Wonwoo was picking his way down the wooden steps sideways, careful not to bump the figure in his arms against the narrow walls.  When he saw Jun, he jerked his head in the direction of the woman at the counter poignantly. 

Jun nodded and turned his attention back to the woman who was practically leaning across the counter, completely transfixed by him.  Jun’s voice was almost purring, “I really don’t mean to bother you Sarah, I just wanted to see you again.  I couldn’t resist.”

As Wonwoo reached the bottom of the stairs, the sound of a scuffle came from the other end of the room. 

Wonwoo almost forgot he was holding anything in his arms as he saw a man emerge into the building, dragging Mingyu with him.

The suited man had a hold of Mingyu by the wrist.  The younger was completely out of it, struggling to stand, his face twisting.  The suited man did not seem alarmed by this or by the scene he had stepped into.  “Ah, I should have known,” he announced.  “Witches tend to travel in pairs.”

Wonwoo had to tear his eyes away from Mingyu’s face, a weight settling into his chest at the direct and chilling address. 

“I must say, you’ve got yourself a nice one here,” the man continued, clearly talking about Mingyu, “Pretty.”

He prayed Jun was keeping the woman at the counter distracted but couldn’t spare a look.  He didn’t know what this man was or what he knew, but charm wouldn’t be enough to distract anyone from the scene unfolding around them now.

With as much authority as he could muster he tried, “You should let him go.” 

“Why?” the suited man replied, shaking Mingyu’s wrist in his hold. 

Wonwoo tried not to let the squirming of his heart show in his expression.  The man in the suit was studying his every small move and Wonwoo didn’t want to give him the advantage of knowing he was terrified. 

The man continued, “It wouldn’t be very fair.  Unless you’re going to trade mine for yours.”

Growing uncomfortable with the continued implications, Wonwoo suddenly felt the weight in his arms.  His brain was working at three speeds, scrambling to puzzle out what this man was and what he wanted.

“What do you think?”  The man in the suit crooned as if he had heard him. He suddenly grabbed Mingyu’s jaw in his free hand and dragged his face beside his own for comparison.  “Do you see a resemblance?” 

The sound of Mingyu's voice cracking in pain, his eyes half rolled back in his skull made Wonwoo’s spine stiffen.  He saw out of the corner of his eye that Jun had gone extremely tense.  His back was still turned to the scene.  He was mumbling to the woman at the counter, his tone darker and more intense but he looked like he was going to be sick.  Wonwoo only had a moment to wonder at it before the man in the suit continued,

“You’d think that a good witch would make an effort to be more polite to the ones they serve.”

Wonwoo knew what they were facing, then, but it was little comfort.  He had not faced a demon in a long age.

“I have no reason to be polite,” Wonwoo clarified lowly, “and you should know that there are a great many of us who have nothing to do with your kind.”

“But some of you do,” the man in the suit said in a bit of a sing song voice, looking with pretend fondness at Mingyu the way someone might look at a dog.

“What’s your business here,” Wonwoo demanded, more to pull the demon’s attention away from Mingyu than to actually get an answer.

“Shouldn’t that be obvious?” the man in the suit responded, glancing pointedly at the boy in Wonwoo’s arms.  “What better joy could I have then to serve the first children of god?”

For a moment, Wonwoo thought he felt the tilt of the Earth under his feet.  He felt like he was seeing himself from outside of his body as he realized that the frail figure he had in his arms with a descendent of angels.  Tearing himself out of the awe and back into the moment he adjusted his hold on Joshua as a show of solidarity.  “You’re going to need to find yourself a new hobby.”

“Then you’re going to want to find a new apprentice,” the man threatened clearly.

Wonwoo couldn’t help his eyes flicking over at Jun for guidance. 

Jun’s hands were currently gripping the countertop, his knuckles white. 

“Oh, Jun,” the man in the suit called, likely following Wonwoo’s gaze.  “Of course you couldn’t have forgotten that I prohibited you from entering this building.  Your gifts and visits were a bit self-serving, don’t you agree?”

“Keep looking at me, Sarah,” Jun said under his breath, though it was clear from the clenching of his teeth that he was affected by the words.  The command in his tone was almost frightening.

“You’re the doctor,” Wonwoo realized.

“I do all sorts of things to help our patients feel better,” the man said coolly.  “You know what it’s like.  People don’t always know what’s best for them.  Right, Jun?”

There was veiled meaning in the comment that Wonwoo didn’t understand. 

Jun ducked his head like he was three ticks away from exploding.  Wonwoo was frozen between keeping Joshua from harm’s way, trying to free Mingyu and breaking rank to go stand at Jun’s side. 

Then all of a sudden Jun tilted his head slightly and caught Wonwoo’s eye.  Wonwoo realized that there was an odd pull in Jun’s sleeve like a hand was resting on his arm. 

He looked up again to the demon and saw a black cat sitting on the shelf behind him. 

A voice called out.  “Now, Hoshi!”

Wonwoo dropped, falling into a protective crouch with Joshua still in his arms. 

The cat from the shelf landed on the man's head at the same time that he closed his knees with a howl.  Woozi appeared a second later and Wonwoo thought that he would happily tell his grandchildren about the time Woozi kicked a demon in the balls.

Screeching with cat nails embedded in his neck, the demon let go of Mingyu’s arm.  The younger instantly crumpled concerningly to the floor in what seemed to be a dead faint.  The chaos of the moment increased as Woozi vanished again and the demon tried to grab the cat from his head.  Sparks like lightning scattered around the room. 

Jun had turned around at last, looking at the scene with wide eyes and maybe a bit of triumph.  He was mouthing something to himself that looked like, “one, two, and through and through.”

“Jun!” Wonwoo warned, watching the woman behind the counter start to look around the vampire to the scene playing out in the center of the room.  Jun turned back quickly to her slowly awakening eyes.

“Oh—.”

“Sarah, stop.”

“What’s going o—”

He reached out, grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her into an emotionless kiss.

Wonwoo nearly jumped out of his skin as a voice sounded next to him, “What do you have on you?”

He turned to see Woozi standing there next to him. 

Eyes widening under the fae’s pressing gaze, he freed one hand to search quickly through his pockets and pulled out a small bottle of pale yellow liquid. 

Woozi plucked it straight out of his hand and called, “Hoshi, move!”

The cat jumped away and Woozi hurled the bottle at the feet of the man in the suit.  The bottle broke open, spraying across the floor.

With an angry cry the demon dissipated, body vanishing into smoke that flew out through the open door. 

For a moment the room was dead quiet.

Hoshi had dropped to the floor and was human again—at least by appearance.  He immediately moved to lean over Mingyu.  “Oh, that’s no good,” he said as he started to pick pieces of glass out of Mingyu’s hair.

Wonwoo turned to look at Woozi again.  He breathed, “Thank you,” into the air, still trying to regain his bearings past the adrenaline.  Woozi shrugged the thanks away.

Over at the counter Jun had broken the kiss.  The woman was looking at him with dutiful eyes, but Jun was breathing unevenly and commanded in that hypnotizing voice he so rarely used, “You need to go check in back.  I think we heard something.”

She nodded, turned, and headed toward the door.  She didn’t even acknowledge that there were four strangers in the room as she passed them by. 

Once she had gone, Jun visible lost the tension in his frame, but he didn’t turn around.

“Jun?” Wonwoo questioned.

The vampire moved unsteadily toward the front door.  He stepped out of view but they could hear the faint sound of him throwing up a few moments later. 

They were still staring after him when Woozi said, “Can’t say I blame him.  She wouldn’t be my type.”

“It’s not that,” Wonwoo mumbled with old concern, knowing how hard it was for Jun to glamor mortals—how guilty it made him feel.

His mind refocused on Hoshi sitting on his heels and leaning over Mingyu.  The weight of Joshua in his arms kept him from going across the room. 

“Hoshi, how is he?”

“. . .’m okay.”  It was Mingyu’s voice that answered and it was faint.  But it was Mingyu’s voice.

Wonwoo dropped his head and breathed out a quiet thank you to the universe. 

“Hey, kid,” Hoshi said glowingly, though it was odd in some ways to hear him acknowledge his own age.

“My head hurts,” Mingyu responded faintly and he sounded weak like he’d caught a cold.

Hoshi looked across the room and when he met Wonwoo’s eyes he said darkly, “I should have clawed the demon’s eyes out.”  The threat was sobering coming from Hoshi, the darkness unfamiliar to his features, but Wonwoo couldn’t disagree.

Before Wonwoo could figure out how to get himself across the room, a low voice sounded by his ear, “We have to get out of here.”

Wonwoo knew that Woozi was right but he couldn’t figure out how to make it work with Mingyu just now coming around and he, himself, already carrying Joshua. 

Mingyu was playing brave but even Wonwoo had no idea what kind of effects having a demon grab him by the arm might have had.  Mingyu could barely handle the life of an average person stuffed into his head.  Nothing like this had happened before.  And then there was the matter of a particularly disturbing thought that Wonwoo couldn’t shake.

Hoshi was smoothing his thumbs over Mingyu’s forehead and Wonwoo was thankful at least that they had the imp as part of their team.  Hoshi wouldn’t be able to help Mingyu out of the building on his own, though.  He wasn’t human enough for that.   

“I’ve got him.”

Jun was framed in the doorway.

Wonwoo knew that the moment to ask him if he was okay had passed.  Jun would have packed away any of the weakness that had shown through a moment before.  It made for one less problem to deal with in the moment but he knew Jun would be paying for it later when it came cracking back to the surface as it always did. 

Without needing instruction, Jun came across to Mingyu and Hoshi.  Wonwoo watched for a moment as Jun leant down.  “Hey witchy boy, let’s get you off the floor.”

Mingyu didn’t make any kind of answer.

Jun helped push Mingyu up into a collapsed but technically upright position.  He kept his hands supportively on Mingyu’s shoulders, letting him rest his back against his knees.  Mingyu mumbled something with his hands covering his face. 

“We’re going to take care of it,” Jun said kindly.  “But we have to leave now.”

Mingyu nodded, or perhaps he didn’t have the strength to hold his head up. 

“Come on,” Hoshi urged, and then he helped Jun get Mingyu up and into a somewhat standing position.  Jun got his arm around Mingyu’s waist for support and Hoshi slung Mingyu’s arm over Jun’s neck. 

Wonwoo stood as well now.  Although Joshua seemed to weigh next to nothing, Wonwoo's arms were starting to ache from holding their position for so long.

“How are we doing this?” Woozi asked.

“We still have to get Joshua to the cab. . .”

“I know but I can’t make all of us invisible and you won’t all fit in that tiny cab you’ve got Seungcheol holding for you.”

Wonwoo looked across at Jun.  Jun looked back.  Neither of them had an answer.

“You should get Joshua out of town,” Hoshi said firmly.  “We’ll go to the apartment.”

Wonwoo nodded, and Jun started heading out first, his steps slow with Mingyu hanging off of him.

Woozi caught Wonwoo’s arm before he started to leave, his eyes trailing over to the now empty doorway. “You know what he is, right?”

Wonwoo hesitated, but finally nodded and Woozi responded in turn,  “Alright.  Go quickly.  I can give you a bit of a cover but it won’t last.  People will still be able to see you but they won’t notice you unless you want them to.”

They parted ways quickly after that, leaving St. Mark's Asylum casting its long shadow behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 and 8 were both uploaded tonight so be mindful if you missed 7! This is actually the first chapter I wrote from this piece and everything else was built from this moment in true half-told story fashion. Also don't mind my nerdy bible verse references I'm amusing myself with numbers. The nerdiest thing of all is me deleting a word to make the word count 13,333.


	9. London, the day of.  Scotland, the night of.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The circle grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cautious readers see the end note for details.

Seungcheol startled when there was a knock on the cab door. 

He was preparing to ask, “What took so long?” but before he could get the words out Wonwoo was bundling the figure in his arms into the cab.

“What’s going on?” Seungcheol asked, trying to slow the other down.

“No time to explain,” Wonwoo said, sounding out of breath as he lay the figure over the seat.  “I have to go back into town.  Just get him to the house.  We’ll send Hoshi with news when we can.”

“Where are the others?”

“Don’t stop for anything.  Just get him to Jeonghan at the house and everything will be fine.”

“But—.”

Seungcheol couldn’t finish his thought as Wonwoo had turned away to shout, “All set,” to the driver. 

He finally paused long enough to look Seungcheol in the eye as the other leant out of the door of the cab.  “I know this isn’t the plan but you have to trust me on this.”

Seungcheol nodded.  “Of course.”

Wonwoo stepped back as the driver called for the horse to set off.  Seungcheol shut the door as the cab began to move. 

Wonwoo waved after him for a moment but before they’d even gone around the corner he had turned and walked quickly back the way he’d come.

When the cab started to pick up speed, Seungcheol took his first look at the figure left curled up on the seat beside him. This was Joshua, then.  He was surprised by how paper thin he seemed.  Of course, considering the conditions he’d been living under it was no surprise.  The way the light passed through the windows across his face made him seem almost like he didn’t fit in the world around him.  Like shadows didn’t have a hold on him.

“Certainly seems like it was an exciting day,” he said quietly.

He wasn’t really expecting a response, he seemed to be out cold, but Joshua exhaled, his mouth opening slightly and his hands unclenching where they’d been firmly balled up under his chin. 

Seungcheol felt a well of infinite fondness opening in him and he dropped his hand on the other’s shoulder to make sure he wouldn’t slide onto the floor as they started to turn.  Jeonghan always complained that he was too soft.

“Whole new world starts today,” he said, feeling at peace with the morning sliding by the windows.  “You’re with us, now.”

. . .

   

Joshua forgets again.  He doesn’t know why he’s cold on the stone floor or why a blanket is tossed at him as if in anger.  He hasn’t opened his eyes yet—it’s the first thing he remembers and he wonders what he has done. 

The door is shut but it’s made of metal bars and so the dim gray light doesn’t change its press on his eyelids.  The wrongness he feels tells him he has done something bad but he wishes desperately that he wasn’t alone—though it’s dangerous.  He’s suddenly afraid of being alone even if it’s safer that way. 

His clothes feel like they’re grabbing at him, twisting around him.  He doesn’t know how to stop shaking or how to open his eyes.   He wonders how long he’s forgotten or what he’s done.  He’s always forgetting.

He is burning so hot the fire is blue.  He sees the stars wheeling and crashing into existence.

A hand comes to rest on his forehead.  “Poor thing.”

His face scrunches in confusion.  The voice continues over the sound of rustling and shuffling around the room, “Seungcheol, have you looked at him?”

“Yeah, Jeonghan, it was a long ride over.”

“Yes, but have you _seen_ him?”

The second voice comes closer.  The timbre of it almost vibrates the air as they speak lowly, “Yeah, Jeonghan, I know.”

The voices are quiet for a moment.  The hand is now petting over his arm soothingly.  He feels both cold and hot.  A shiver runs over him and the hand pauses then squeezes his shoulder.  The voice is close and kind.  “Hey, we’re going to take care of you.  You can sleep.”

He feels a strange, utter calm, though he doesn’t remember ever feeling it before.  He doesn’t remember a lot of things, but the voices are kind and that’s reassuring enough.

The voices carry on their conversation in hushed tones.  He drifts off to the sound of it playing in the back of his mind.

. . .

“I think I’m just surprised that Jun seemed to care so much.  I mean, of course he would care I don’t mean that.  But. . .” He couldn’t find the right way to say it.  He didn’t want to use the word _personal_.

“It is,” Jeonghan said knowingly.

“How?” He could see where this would go already, but he wanted Jeonghan to tell him the whole truth.  He’d wanted that since Chartes. 

“It isn’t Chartes,” Jeonghan answered, picking up on his thoughts. “I told you Chartes is complicated but it saved his life.  Despite what it may seem like he knows what it did to him.”

“I knew that.”

“Seungcheol, I wish you did.  I wish any of you had understood what was really going on back then.  I wouldn’t expect you to, but if you’d actually known. . .”

“That he was hurt?” he felt steady in saying it.  He almost felt angry to think Jeonghan thought he hadn’t known.  “That he still has bad dreams and he still flinches?  You thought I didn’t know that?”

Jeonghan tapped his foot slowly like he was counting a heartbeat.  He was looking off at the wall when he lifted his voice vacantly, “Of course you’d understand that.  I never meant that you wouldn’t.”

The sun was setting earlier now, and there was just a small rectangle of light left near the baseboard.  The room was dense and quiet.  Seungcheol paced behind the chair that Jeonghan had pulled over when they’d come in and stopped, his hand on the high back. 

Jeonghan was leaning forward so far in the chair that even that distance felt far away. 

“What happened before Chartes?” he asked.

Jeonghan glanced down at the figure dead asleep on the chaise longue that had been delivered into the parlor 60 years ago with the intention of moving it upstairs one day.  It had never been moved. “He was kept, Seungcheol. He can’t glamor mortals because he knows what it feels like.”

The news didn’t shock him as he expected.  He had always been able to see the remains of whatever left Jun in pieces he couldn’t reassemble.  He hoped to be angry but he just felt a general sadness.  “This was the person that turned him?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You know why,” Jeonghan murmured dully, “A face like his. . .”

He had tried to maintain his unwavering composure so that Jeonghan would trust him with the truth but the chair creaked under the force of his hand squeezing it.

“I still wonder sometimes, though,” Jeonghan went on, his voice not even seeming to come from his body.  Seungcheol couldn’t see his face.  Couldn’t see him forming the words or even breathing in to say them. “I wonder if he hesitates when I’m around.  If he thinks of me like that same kind of monster.  The man who turned him undid him.  I would never—”

No part of Jeonghan was monstrous.  In all their years, Seungcheol had never once heard Jeonghan insinuate it was possible for an elf to be anything of the sort.  But the Jeonghan he remembered then was the one who’d charmed his way through France.  Who had made no discrimination between whose company he would keep.  And Jeonghan had always looked so gently at Jun like he was afraid to shatter him with too intense a gaze.  Even in his most desperate moments, Seungcheol had never had that same look put upon him. 

Because he’d never needed it.  He’d never been afraid of Jeonghan’s affections or his motivations.  He’d never been made to be afraid.

“Is he dead?” Seungcheol asked between his teeth, so quietly angry that it almost felt like he would cry.

“Yes. I’d claim credit if I could, but it was Jun.”

“Good.”  He meant it, but as he thought it through, he imagined that was the hardest thing Jun would have ever done.  He imagined that would be enough to drive him to Chartes.  Enough to make the apologizes stretch across a century.  Enough to make him need to make a rescue to rectify the wrong.

Seungcheol moved around so he could sit on the floor next to the chair.  He leant his body against it and joined Jeonghan in watching over their new charge.

“We’ve been here before,” he said, then, “we’ll make this work, too.”

“I know we will,” Jeonghan said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually where the natural end of this story is. There is more to explore in this time. There are loose ends still, but those are answers we've already gotten in other stories or will one day. 
> 
> Cont. from Beginning Notes: If you read Saltines without issue you should have no problem here. If you want to be extra sure about content then always feel free to message me and I'll break it down for you but I'm a super vague implication kind of writer so there's nothing to surprise or shock here.
> 
>  
> 
> Bribe of the day: 10 dollars if you noticed the verb tense shift and 20 if it didn't bother you.


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